


Puzzle Pieces

by sabertoothteddy



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Based on an rp I had with an old partner that I'm expanding on, Brainwashing, Closer to the comics than the movies probably?, Dom/Sub universe, Forced Soulmates, M/M, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant, Red Room
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:34:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6796846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabertoothteddy/pseuds/sabertoothteddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint Barton becomes Kirill Makarov. </p><p>James Barnes becomes Yacob Medvedev. </p><p>The Red Room thinks unattached enhanced soldiers are too big of a flight risk, and uses its two best examples as lab rats to test a technology backed mental bond. Hopefully the bond will keep the brainwashing more stable and the two dangerous operatives under better control. </p><p>Hopefully. </p><p>If they don't kill each other first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Blood Tinted Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Serious canon divergence happening here. Clint Barton is now a sniper in WW2, enhanced with a knock off Project Rebirth serum. He's captured by the Red Room and joins Bucky as brained washed buddies. Both have cybernetic enhancements, Bucky's being his arm and Clint's being his eyes and ears. Clint, in his current brainwashed state, is a Dominant, and Bucky is a submissive. This is a D/s verse. This is all based off a roleplay with an old partner I wanted to expand upon. This first chapter is all written on my phone, and hasn't been beta'd, much less edited because it's one in the morning and I have a final exam in 7 hours. So I'm saying fuck it and posting it.

His legs were pinned. 

 

Pinned beneath a massive hunk of twisted metal, trapping him in the burning hunk of the transport plane that had been shot down somewhere over Russia. He wasn't even sure exactly where he was anymore, having dozed off sometime during the flight only to be rudely awaken by someone blowing up something vital on the plane. Who had even shot them down? They were over Russia. The Japs surely couldn't have detected them and followed them in, the damned Nazis couldn't have been this far east, and he didn't think Hydra was still active after the whole bomber into the Arctic bit. Besides, the SSR said no one should have been able to detect their plane. The usual briefing of ‘something something Stark something something stealth technology’. This was just supposed to be a milk run to test some technology. And him. He probably counted as technology now.

 

Really didnt matter now, because he was definitely going to die, probably in a not pleasant way. If the iron rod sticking through his torso didn't do it with blood lose, then the fire creeping ever closer would definitely do it. Bleeding out would be preferable, considering the idea of burning to death just sounded unpleasant and well, bleeding out just involved going to sleep permanently. He didn't really think he was going to get the chance to reach his long painless nap though, because the heat of the fire was already starting to make his skin crackle. So much for being an 'enhanced’ soldier. That had worked so well after Project Rebirth. Why had he even volunteered for this? So yeah, he was a damn good shot. The best, honestly. And so what if whatever they had injected him with had fixed his hearing some after losing it to an explosion? He was going to die painfully now without ever doing anything. He couldn't even inch away from the flames as they stretched towards him, making his eyes sting and water. The one good thing about him was going to go first, because wasn't that just perfect? 

 

The heat was definitely starting to get unpleasant, erasing the cold that had been slowly spreading through him, cold that he had been welcoming because he  _ really _ didn't want to burn to death. He'd regained consciousness enough to hear some of his teammates burn and he was fairly certain no human should have to hear those kinds of screams or be under the kind of pain that lead to those screams. He did his best to inch away from the flames, almost vomiting as the bar through his stomach shifted and a little more blood leaked out. Hey, maybe his blood would put the fire out before it got to him? That'd be pretty great. Or maybe…maybe he could reach his sniper rifle. A quick bullet to the brain was preferable to the fire anyway. A little bit more shifting and maybe he could reach it. Just an inch or two more, the heat of the flames making his skin ache. Just an inch more… 

 

Movement at the torn open center of the plane. He was a sniper, he couldn't  _ not _ look. People fucking in, Russian maybe? They'd help. Russian were allies, even if he'd never seen the particular phrase on their shoulders before. Красная комната.  _ Red room?  _ “Help. Help please. I'm still alive, please help me.” He should have been loud enough for them to hear. Why… why weren't they coming to help him? Surely they could see him. It didn't matter if they understood English or not, they'd see him and help. Surely… 

 

He could see their eyes gloss over him like he wasn't even there and could feel the panic set in again, breathes speeding up. The fire was so close. Too close. He was going to start burning, could already feel the skin around his eyes starting to itch and his eyes watering. They'd notice him before he burned, they had to notice him. 

 

Feet settled by his head, and he looked away from the flames just long enough to look into ice blue eyes, a mask covering the man's lower face, and most disturbingly, a metal arm. The Russian had to see him. He was right there. “Please, please help me, I don't want to die, please help, you have to see me, you're standing right there,  _ please. _ ”

 

The crackle to the right and just above him was the only warning he got before a burning piece of wood above him finally crumbled and he looked over just in time to see the embers falling directly into his eyes, turning his entire world into pain…. 

  
  
  


He jerked awake in his bed, the scream caught in his throat, eyes already switching to night vision and a throwing knife buried in his door. Accursed nightmares. It took several minutes of long, deep breathes to calm his racing heart, and then he had to get out of bed and return his knife to the sheath, still trying to shake the echo of pain from the dream. At least he hasn't screamed this time and woken any other operatives. That wouldn't have been viewed well by the handlers and he needed to be viewed well, today of all days, since he was being tested today. A partner, the handlers had told him, to do joint missions with. The rumor mill had said it was someone enhanced as he was, possibly both through a serum and cybernetics. Probably not the same cybernetics. He'd yet to encounter another operative that even wished to go through the procedure to have their eyes replaced with something like his, even with the benefits. 

 

Still, there were only so many enhanced operatives and the fact that he hadn't managed to figure out exactly who it was was slightly frustrating. Would it be another Dom? It would be interesting to see how the dynamic could work out. A sub in the field could be dangerous though, even if trained to resist dropping, but with a sub there would probably be less of a power struggle, which could be nice. Another Dom would probably be older as well, putting him in the more submissive role anyway, which wasn't appealing. It wasn't as if his opinion mattered anyway. The handlers would pair him with the best match. And he might as well get up and prepare. It wasn't as if he wouldbe going back to sleep after the damned repeating nightmare ridiculousness. He  _ hated  _ that dream. A long warm up in the gym would help him shake the restlessness off, and would mean that he could be early for the scheduled meet. It was a good plan. 

 

He'd prefer the meet be in the range, allowing him to be in his preferred area, but rumors had whispered that his possible partner was a close quarters expert. Or, at least, more specialized and trained in it than the high level of skill demanded from all of them. So warming up was probably for the best, especially for him. It meant he could scope out every individual that came into the gym, subtly studying those he didn't know, trying to tell if they were enhanced or not. It meant that he almost missed his own handler walking in with two other men, one probably another handle by the way he held himself and the other was….. 

  
The man from his dream with the arm and those eyes. The one that had watched him start to burn. The one that hadn't helped.  _ Shit.  _ Because after that ridiculous nightmare, this was not what he needed. Even with the sudden spike of anxiety, he came when his handler gestured him over, keeping a wary amount of distance between him and the other operative. This was supposed to be his partner? The man from his nightmares? He was so fucked. His name drew him out of his thoughts though, pushing back the memory of the nightmare. “Kirill Makarov, greet your possible partner. Yakob Medvedev. Close quarters specialist although he’s a decent shot. Code name Winter Soldier. Yakob, Kirill is easily one of our finest shots, and is enhanced in similar ways as to yourself. Code name Hawkeye.”


	2. Sorry I Kind of Broke Your Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kirill is really not nearly as good at fighting as he thinks he is, and his face is not nearly strong enough to hold up against a metal arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There won't always be a chapter a day, but there was nothing to do at work today for the first half of my shift. So enjoy the fruits of my boredom. 
> 
> Notes on Kirill's eyes. They've got rough versions of night vision, thermal, and a weak version of x-ray. It's not like they'd even know to be concerned about radiation and fuck science.

His partner was to be _the_ Winter Soldier? Trainer of the Black Widows, who were good enough to hand him his ass most days, and the Room’s favored, and original, enhanced operative? Hell, his eyes and ears had come from the technological breakthroughs from this man's arm. He was so fucked in this test. So, so fucked. He has a fairly confident grasp of his close quarters combat abilities, and in no way did they match up to a man that could tear apart vehicles with his arm. Oh, this was going to hurt. But still, no need to be impolite. Or reveal just how concerning this situation was. It was just a training run. It wasn't like they'd kill each other.

So he stuck his hand out before immediately dropping it, eyes flicking to the black band wrapped around the Soldier’s neck. Wait, the famed Winter Soldier was a submissive? That was…. Interesting, to say the least, and his Dom pride felt slightly soothed by the idea. Stupidly soothed, because when the two handlers gestured them onto the mats for a test match, he felt confident that he could handle this situation. A serious mistake, but expected, considering how young he still was. It seemed to go well at first. They traded blows almost lazily for a few minutes, each taking a few hits but returning a few, no serious bruises or injuries acquired, Feeling each other out, really. It was easy enough that his stupid pride and confidence snuck in, rearing its ugly head, and making him poke the bear that he should definitely not be poking. He had looked over that arm the few times he'd been close, tracing the lines of the buried support struts with his eyes gleaming blue. He really did need to thank the scientists again for the toys packed into his eyes. That arm, he'd determined, was both a blessing and a curse. It was devastatingly powerful, leaving his own arm tingling and numbed any time he blocked a blow from it, but the area near the shoulder had to be sensitive and weakened.

 

So punching that area seemed like a _fantastic_ plan.

 

At least one bone in his hand cracked when he finally managed to land a punch there, delicate bones not nearly as tough as the metal fused with skin, but the sudden whiteness in Yakob’s face was worth it, even if they both had to retreat for a moment. Kirill shook his hand a few times, determining that yes, something was cracked, at least, but he could deal with the pain level. What he could probably _not_ deal with was the look of cold rage flickering across the Soldier’s face, the plates on his arm shifting and clinking. That did not seem like a good sign.

 

_I'm so fucked._

 

He really was, because Yakob had definitely been holding back, and it very quickly went from a fight that appeared mostly equal to Kirill mostly just being a punching bag and trying not to get anything else broken, which he was fairly good at, all things considered. What he was not good at was trying to figure out how he was very suddenly flying through the air after another encounter with that metal arm, because he definitely didn't remember jumping and flying through the air never seems to end well and his train of thought was cut off back his back, and then the back of his head, slamming hard enough into the wall that everything went dark for a few seconds. Just a brief nap, really. He blinked back into consciousness and had to shake his head to clear it, a worrying amount of static clouding his right eye, but it was still functional and he could still move, pushing himself back to his feet, holding his groan in as his ribs took up aching as well. He didn't pull away from the hand that snagged his chin though, far too conditioned to flinch away from his handler who was dragging his head down to look at his mechanical eye, the iris flickering through different colors. “Damaged?"

 

“Still functioning. I can visit the engineers afterwards and see if any permanent damage was done?”

 

“Do so. Continue with the fight."

 

It was only right, after all, that they have experience with fighting while their cybernetics were malfunctioning. What better time than now to test his ability to function with a handicap? The answer was ‘not well’ especially considering the static seemed to always peak right as that metal arm was going for something squishy and important. It meant a significant amount of more dodging for him, trying to stay out of reach just in case his eye flicked off. Which of course it did, just the perfect time for him to get a brief view of that arm aimed at his face, and not enough time to dodge but no sight to plan a block with.

 

He came to on the floor with absolutely no knowledge of how he got there, his jaw feeling like it was probably broken, his right eye completely dark, and his ears ringing, which was _never_ a good sign with the technology in them. A boot pushed at his shoulder, rolling him to his back, and he was pretty sure at least a tiny noise of pain slipped out. He did get his eyes open enough to catch watch he assumed was the tail end of a sentence aimed at him from Yakob, lip reading through the pain throbbing through him because there was no way sound was getting through the ringing, even if the receivers in his ears were working. “- broken?”

 

The Winter Soldier has very nice lips, which was not a productive though, so he idly noted that he probably had at least a concussion before getting his brain chugging again, his hands lifting to sign before he could even think about it. **_Can't hear you._** The signs got a look of confusion, but at least his handler's head appeared in his narrowed field of vision, an eyebrow raised and hands already up to sign.

 

**_Are your ears or eyes damaged?_ **

 

**_Yes. Ringing ears. Can't hear sounds. Right eye dark. Also few bones cracked or broken._ **

 

He got frowned at, which he probably deserved, but really what has they expected pitting him against the Winter Soldier? For it to end well? He thought it hadn't gone half bad, considering he still had all of his limbs basically functioning and nothing permanently damaged. Definitely some damage though, considering when a metal arm pulled him upright with no effort of his own, he almost passed out and had to close his functioning eye as everything spun. _No vomiting. No more unconsciousness. I've embarrassed myself enough for today._ Any anger or annoyance he could have felt was long drowned out by the fact that most of his body ached, mixed with the sharper pains of cracked bones that could take a few days or a week to heal, and that he basically couldn't see or hear. But he was still living. So he figured that counted as a win. Plenty of people had come of significantly worse in the face of the Winter Soldier's rage. Now if only he could keep his feet under him, because the metal arm and its owner were pulling him along, both holding him upright and guiding him and he could only read a few words of the conversation between the handlers as they walked ahead, heads turned to the side to exchange words.

 

“---train----shoot----better-----and----partner----balance?”

 

He fucking hated not being able to hear, turning slightly to the man dragging him along, lifting his hands to sign and getting the oddest look of confusion aimed at his hands.

 

 Because of course the Winter Soldier couldn't read _sign_. He had perfectly working ears. Asshat. Alright,that was probably excessively rude, but how was he supposed to partner with a guy he could only halfway communicate with? Could that arm even manage some of the more complicated signs? Did it matter? Had that wall always been that startling shade of purple shifting into lime green? Probably not, and the fact that either his eye or his brain was interpreting that as those colors was definitely not a good sign. Neither was the black encroaching at the edges of his sight, and the growing feeling of lightheadedness. He thought he managed to slur 'I’m going to pass out’ but with his jaw already hurting as much as it did, he wasn't actually sure but he did know that he got to stumble over his own feet just once more, in almost a warning, before everything went very solidly black.

 

Unconsciousness really was so very embarrassing.

 

Waking up with the guy that had broken your face sitting next to your bed in Medical was also embarrassing, especially with the amount of drugs they had had to pump into him to make him feel this good with the damage he knew he had taken. It made everything pleasantly fizzy at the edges, like his eyes kept losing focus. Oh, his eyes. They were both working, so that was nice. His ears weren't ringing anymore so those had probably been fixed while he had been out as well.

 

His jaw had been wired shut, which was slightly annoying considering what was going to be his awesome first words were turned into a grunt paired with a thoroughly befuddled look. “I broke your jaw along with damaging your cybernetics. My apologies. They have wired your jaw shut for few days to allow it to heal. Our handlers told me to stay with you until you had awakened.”

 

Which wasn't super helpful considering Kirill couldn't exactly verbally communicate, and Yakob couldn't understand sign, not that Kirill could have signed considering he discovered one hand had been wrapped and splinted when he lifted it to start signing. Which left them staring awkwardly at each other for long moments before Yakob sighed. “I let my anger get the best of me. You didn't deserve me beating you that badly, even if you did land a good hit. They had told me you weren't the best at hand to hand and I suppose I was out to prove a point. I should have eased off when I noticed you were having issues with sight.”

 

Kirill blinked, huffed, and started looking around. There had to be… ah. Pad and pen. His handler knew him too well, and his ambidexterity had to be good for something other than knife throwing. ‘point made’ he managed to scribble crookedly before holding the pad up to be read. ‘Should have told handler myself. I'll get you back on the range. It is nice to have break from you hitting my face’. The last part he could probably blame on the drugs, but it did get the slightest hint of a smile from the other man. “I'll try and control myself in the future. We are to be field partners. I do not believe you are meant to punch your field partner in the face.”

 

Attempting to laugh was a trial in pain, and he settled for little huffs that still made his ribs ache slightly. ‘I will probably deserve it. Do not worry. Bones heal. I'll be fine in a few days’. Speaking of bones healing…

 

“You should not be awake yet. You super soldiers and your metabolisms.” A nurse almost appeared from nowhere at his side, and he contained his flinch, mostly, hiding it and the unhappiness as a needle was produced and something injected into the IV in his arm. Sedative, if the immediate heavy feeling was any hint, his eyes already trying to flutter closed. A surprisingly gentle, but cool, metal hand took the pencil and pad from him, setting them back on the table. “Rest. I'll keep watch. I know how hard it can be to rest without a lookout.” And who was he to say no to the Winter Soldier keeping an eye on him while he slept? He was probably owed at least that, managing to nod slowly, blinking slowly before his eyes finally close.

 

 

  
  
  
His legs were pinned, and the fire was inching towards his eyes……

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, not betad and not edited. 
> 
> Btw, I write these on my phone, so if there is ever something odd, it's because autocorrect hates my guts. Be happy that I at least catch when I swipe wrong and switch my keyboard to Russian without meaning to.


	3. Wait, What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They two operatives find out just what is planned for them in their partnership, and that it is definitely happening, whether the idea of being linked is unappealing or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. Tiny gap, I know, and this chapter isn't too long. Finals just wrapped up on Thursday for me, and Friday I was kicked out of the place I was renting by the landlord who'd been suxually harrassing me since I moved in, so haven't had a ton of time to write. Hopefully everything will settle after this. My best friend is letting my chill at his house until I can find a new apartment to rent, which will hopefully be Monday.
> 
> Anyway, getting on with things happening. I swear eventually there will be sex. Lots of sex, in varied ways, with varied kinks and warnings. Just have to get there.

He was awoken from staring into blue eyes watching him burn to those same blue eyes belonging to the person waking him with a surprisingly gentle shake. That didn’t stop him from snapping just a little bit, trying to get away from the fire that was surely still there and away from the Russian that was watching him burn…. but he wasn’t burning. At least not with fire. The pain in his jaw could could definitely count as burning, considering how sharp it was when he tried to open his mouth to shout. The wires stopped that, but that didn’t stop the pain from pushing him further awake, the shock of the pain in his hand and ribs a rude awakening. It left him panting briefly through his nose, eyes flicking around the room to check for further threats, and when he realized there was none, slowly calming, foring his breathes into a less panicked pattern. “You were making noises in your sleep.” His eyes flicked over to the Winter Soldier,  _ Yakob Yakob I should learn to call him by his name and not only the code name _ , and he blinked, confused for a moment. “I belief you were having a nightmare.” The other man leaned closer, eyes flicking to the door, voice dropping. “It would be wise to not let them know that you are having something like that. It could be deemed a weakness. Weaknesses are to be avoided.” The advice was careful and quite, with an eye out for anyone coming through the door. It was still welcomed advice, and Kirill nodded slowly, his own eyes flicking to the doorframe, pushing his ears to try and detect the sound of footsteps. He thought that they were reasonably safe, at least, for now although it was never good to assume one was completely safe for long in the Room. Even the preferred assets were never safe for long if their abilities or performance lessened. Everyone could fail a test if they weren’t careful. 

 

He nodded again though, lifting up his hands and clumsily signing ‘thank you’ before huffing out of his nose at the confused look it got and reaching again for the pad of paper. ‘Thank you’. He signed it again, hands aching slightly, after holding up the paper, nodding when the other man mimiced it slowly. They could probably give Yakob the knowledge far easier and quicker than he could be taught it, but this would work for now. Especially because there were footsteps approaching, familiar cadence and rhythmn, and his head snapped back to the side, fixated on the door, and his handler that walked through a few seconds later. “Good, you’re awake. Feeling less like you lost a fight with the Winter Soldier?”

 

Handers and their humor. He squinted his mechanical eyes before shrugging a shoulder and gesturing briefly at his jaw. “Cracked. Be thankful it’s only cracked and you aren’t missing it completely. They should be able to take the wires out soon though, since the bone would have knit a bit already. You’ll just have to be careful. I’d suggest keeping the hand brace on a few days though, considering the importance of your hands. Ribs will be a same few days. Light duty until you’re recovered. You know the drill enough by now. After that you’ll be participating in the hand-to-hand training course taught by Yakob. While we didn’t get to gauge your comparitive skills in fire arms, we’ll assume you’re better, Kirill, if that is acceptable with you, Yakob?”

 

He looked over at the other operative quick enough to see what might have been a flicker of a frown before a slow nod. “My skill with firearms has not been an issue before?”

 

“Yes, but without Kirill’s enhancements and with your enhancements, we do not think that you could possibly test as well. Once he gets healed, we can do the test, but we have both of your scores, Yakob. We know who is better in each field.” A tiny chastisement. A warning, really, to not backtalk or question the judgement already handed down. “We’d also prefer you not break Kirill again while he’s in your training. Yes, enhanced operatives heal quicker, but his downtime is expensive and we would like you two to mesh properly as a team as quickly as is possible before we move to the next step.”

 

“Next step?” was asked just as he signed ‘Next step?’

 

“Well, yes. The neural link. Surely we’ve discussed it with you two. No? Ah, well. It can be discussed later when Kirill is feeling better, but the goal remains. You two being the best team we have, as quickly as is possible. The neural link should just make you two more effective and efficient operatives. The scientists are hoping that it facilitates the sharing of thoughts, feelings, possibly knowledge. Preliminary tests have been favorable.” Those tests that didn’t lead to the experiments going insane and killing themselves. You had to crack some eggs to make some omelets, after all. 

 

Of course, the idea of that left both operatives speechless. A neural….. what? While, of course, they both had links with their cybernetics, because that was  _ necessary _ , the idea of a neural link with another person seemed…. wrong. Especially with someone of a different alignment. Which he was already raising his hands to start asking about. “Yes, we know that you’d be concerned about the alignment difference, but we specifically picked you two, with your different alignments, to test this process. If we’re correct, you two will also mesh as a pair as well, and there will not be an issue of alternative individuals being a distraction on base or in the field.” 

 

He realized he didn’t even know the sign for the word he needed, and knew he was frowning, which was never a good thing to do. ‘Like s-o-u-l-m-a-t-e?’ That seemed abhorent on some deep level to him. One was supposed to find their own partner, or at least their other sexual partner, not be linked up to them with some piece of technology that shared thoughts and feelings and….. oh the other man would find out about his dreams. Even  _ dreaming _ about being an American could be considered negative in the Room, and now he was going to get paired to the top operative? This was not good. So very not good, and his hands couldn’t possibly move fast enough to protest. Not that his protests mattered.

 

“This  _ will _ be happening. I will have one of the scientists come by and explain the procedure and technology better to the both of you, so that you understand. I would advise you to accept the idea and being thinking about how it can be best used to your advantage.” And that was the ‘do not attempt to argue with me about this, it will not end well for you’ handler voice, which meant Kirill dropped his hand to the blanket, picking restlessly at a thread while he gave a short nod.

 

So, so fucked.

 

“I’ll have a doctor come to dismiss you and see if the wires can be removed. Enjoy your recovery days. Yakob, your handlers will need to speak to you about the situation as well. Kirill, I will speak to you again once you are more capable of speaking. You’re both dismissed for the time, although your duties resume tomorrow, Yakob. You’re both off the active mission roster until the link is implanted and tested.” And that was all, his handler turning sharply and leaving, the look on the man’s face promising something painful if any more disagreement was to be had. Both operatives knew better than to tempt that face, and stayed silent, not even bothering to look at each other.

  
Well. Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta'd, not edited, I didn't even reread this to see if I fucked it up. In good news, didn't type this on my phone, so hopefully there will be fewer autocorrect errors.

**Author's Note:**

> No beta. No editing. Be kind.


End file.
